


(only a matter of) time

by MiriRainbowitz



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-02 00:30:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5226992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiriRainbowitz/pseuds/MiriRainbowitz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In this life, she was 5 when she remembered Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton and Margaret Church Trent and Lillian Evans Bloom, as well as a pair of eyes with a particular spark in them.</p><p>In this life, she hadn’t started looking for them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(only a matter of) time

She’d recognize those eyes anywhere.

Not the shape and color – she'd lived through three long, eventful lifetimes, she’d seen _plenty_ of eyes that matched those qualities – but there was that distinctive spark of intelligence and ambition and passion in these eyes, that spark that she’d only ever seen in _his_ eyes.

Alexander Hamilton’s eyes.

After he’d been killed, God had given and given to her. She’d lived fifty years past his death – one year longer than he’d spent on this earth, but she’d made the most of them, trying to keep his legacy, to tell his story (she’d succeeded – her two previous lives, and her current life, had given her proof of that). She’d been happy when she felt her time come, because it wouldn’t be long until she was reunited with her Alexander.

Except she hadn’t been reunited with him. She’d been reborn as Margaret Church, into a lower-class family, and her earliest memories of that life included the knowledge of who she’d been and what she’d done (not that she ever spoke of that knowledge to anyone), as well as an insatiable drive to find someone with eyes that contained the same inextinguishable spark that his had.

She’d looked for him in the town she grew up in, but didn’t find him. She’d looked for him as she left the city she grew up in and went to New York (if he was alive, he’d probably be drawn there too), and still didn’t find him. She’d still looked, even after she married (a decent fellow who cared for her and helped support her and their family, but dear God, he had been so _dull_ , even before she compared him to Alexander), looked for that glint she’d seen in his eyes up until Margaret Church Trent died of what was now called a heart attack when she was 65, on the eve of World War I.

That had been a small blessing, at least, when she came back yet again, this time as Lillian Evans. The Great War, as she’d called it as a kid, was over before she started forming memories, and she blossomed into a bright young teenager before the Great Depression. She’d been lucky – her family hadn’t been rich, but they’d clung on by the skin of their teeth, and managed to emerge from the other side with their house and clothes and enough food to keep them from starving.

She was a woman in this life, too, so she hadn’t joined the army when World War II rolled around. She’d gotten a job, first as a telephone operator, and then as a secretary. She’d ended up marrying a man who shared none of Alexander’s looks and half of his mind, and she’d been happy being Lillian Evans Bloom. She had children too, and she decided to try to map out the family trees of her two past lives (in secret, of course), which was exhausting. Finally, on November 11th, 2001, she died of a stroke, at the age of 83.

From the moment she became aware of the memories of her past lives, she’d started searching for him, for that spark he’d had in his eyes, and just like her previous life, she’d found nothing.

In this life, she was 5 when she remembered Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton and Margaret Church Trent and Lillian Evans Bloom, as well as a pair of eyes with a particular spark in them.

In this life, she hadn’t started looking for them.

What was the point? Alexander had died just over two centuries ago. He was probably in Heaven, along with everyone else she’d known as Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton, while she was stuck here, all alone, with nothing but 245 years of memories from three past lives. God had given, all right – he’d given and given and given and was still giving, and she couldn’t figure out a way to make it stop.

In the past year or so, she’d contemplated harming herself – sometimes even killing herself – but she’d never managed to do it anything. She’d be _so_ close to doing it – something, anything – and a tiny little voice would whisper, _wait_.

And now, as she stares into his eyes, she thinks she knows why.

 _Oh, God, he’s_ here, she thinks, and the rush of happiness and elation and her  _love_  for Alexander Hamilton actually makes her stagger and feel light-headed.

“Angie, are you okay?” Kara asks, holding her arms in an effort to steady her.

She shakes her head to clear off the light-headedness. “I’m fine, I just got – dizzy,” she replies. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“I’m Jason,” he says, and Angie/Lillian/Margaret/Elizabeth smiles, because she’s _finally_ found him, but then Angie’s thoughts grind to a screeching halt, because not only is Kara Angie’s best friend, she also has a crush on him. As much as she craves him, Jason/Alexander isn’t hers.

Yet.


End file.
